Rebirth in a Courtyard: I Am a Little Hunter

There were no dramatic descriptions of the tragic scene, no sentimental expressions of pity; Wei Chen simply recounted what he had witnessed—crowded, emaciated, staggering, and with nowhere to go.

However, it is precisely this simplicity that is more powerful than any exaggerated words. These images instantly became clear in everyone's minds. In comparison, although their own families also had to tighten their belts, at least they still had a place to shelter from the wind and rain, a job to make a living, and a relatively stable food supply, even if it was decreasing... It seemed... they really hadn't reached the point of utter desperation?

The surging, impending eruption of anger and despair in the courtyard seemed to be suppressed by an invisible hand. The clamor gradually subsided, replaced by a deeper, more oppressive silence. The indignation on many faces was replaced by a bewildered, resigned sorrow.

Sha Zhu opened his mouth, but finally slumped back onto the small stool, scratching his head in frustration. Qin Huairu held Jia Zhangshi, who was still muttering curses but whose tone had clearly weakened, and silently shed tears.

Hearing Wei Chen's words, Yi Zhonghai felt a mix of emotions, utterly disappointed! This kid is too cunning! He's completely impervious to reason!

He had hoped that Wei Chen would follow his lead and vividly describe the plight of the disaster victims, even mentioning his hunting skills and hinting that he could provide some meat for the compound. This way, Yi Zhonghai could naturally take over the conversation, shout "unity and mutual assistance," organize everyone to "overcome the difficulties together," and "earnestly request" Comrade Wei Chen to "use his expertise" and "contribute to the compound."

What a perfect script! It can appease people, demonstrate his leadership skills, and make Wei Chen owe a favor.

But what about Wei Chen? With a casual "The situation is not optimistic," he shut down all other possibilities! He neither denied the disaster nor made any promises, and he absolved himself of all responsibility. His final "The situation is not optimistic" was a masterful move that left everyone speechless!

Looking at Wei Chen's calm, even somewhat aloof face, Yi Zhonghai suddenly recalled Wei Chen's clean and efficient skills when he assisted in arresting human traffickers at the factory, and the factory leaders' apparent interest in this young man... A chill inexplicably rose from the bottom of his heart.

This kid is no longer the helpless young man who just entered the hospital and needed their "care".

He's capable, has powerful backers, and possesses an unfathomable depth and... ruthlessness. Trying to force him or provoke him now would likely not only bring no benefit but also cause trouble, and might even earn him his wrath.

Thinking of this, the little flame of Yi Zhonghai's desire to use Wei Chen was completely extinguished in an instant, leaving only a deep sense of powerlessness and a trace of barely perceptible apprehension.

He mustered his last bit of strength, coughed twice, and gave a final, futile summary to the dejected and gloomy crowd, his voice filled with exhaustion and emptiness:

"Everyone heard what Comrade Wei Chen said. The situation... that's the situation." He repeated Wei Chen's "not optimistic" statement, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth. "The difficulties are obvious. But we still have to eat one bite at a time, and live one day at a time. Our courtyard has always been a model of unity and mutual assistance, as recognized by the neighborhood committee! Especially in times like these, we must stick together! Everyone go back and carefully consider how to get through this... this critical hurdle! Meeting adjourned!"

He waved his hand weakly, as if he had exhausted his last bit of strength, and too lazy to look at anyone else. He turned around first, put his hands behind his back, and walked towards the backyard with unusually heavy steps, carrying a desolate air of a hero in his twilight years. The dim light cast a long, long shadow of his hunched back.

There was no applause, no response, and even a sigh seemed superfluous. This all-courtyard assembly, destined to be recorded in the "history of suffering" of the courtyard, ended hastily amidst a suffocating atmosphere of gloom and silent, heavy pressure.

The crowd dispersed silently, like the receding tide, carrying their small stools and walking heavily towards their cold homes.

Heavy sighs rose and fell, like invisible lead weights, weighing on everyone's hearts and hanging over this ancient courtyard house.

Jia Zhangshi was half-supported and half-carried back to the house by Qin Huairu. She was still cursing and swearing, cursing God for being blind, cursing the officials for being heartless, and cursing Yi Zhonghai for being a jinx. But her voice had lost its previous shrewishness and was now just a hollow, mechanical resentment.

Sha Zhu kicked the small stool at his feet in frustration, making a screeching sound. He looked at the backs of Qin Huairu and her mother-in-law disappearing into the house, then at the empty courtyard with only the dim light bulb and the mess on the ground. He sighed heavily, filled with endless annoyance, and dejectedly returned to his cold and deserted little house.

Uncle Yan Bugui was the last to leave. He seemed to have lost his soul, squatting beside the square table that Liu Haizhong had patted earlier, his fingers unconsciously tracing patterns on the dusty surface, muttering to himself in a voice so low that only he could hear: "Twelve jin... twelve jin... cornmeal... dried sweet potatoes... wild vegetables... elm seeds... locust flowers... how is that enough... how is that enough..." His thin face, under the dim, flickering light, looked so distressed that it seemed as if bitter tears were about to drip from it.

Wei Chen had already quietly retreated into the shadows of the Moon Gate, like a calm bystander, witnessing the tragicomedy of life triggered by two pounds of grain.

He turned and walked lightly and silently through the small doorway back to the relatively quiet front of his own house. He took out his key, and with a soft "click," the wooden door opened and then gently closed, completely shutting out the oppressive atmosphere, the scheming, and the thick, unyielding sorrow of the courtyard.

Inside, there was a cool and peaceful tranquility that belonged only to him. He took off his outer garment, hung it up, and went to the bedside in the inner room. No lamp was lit; moonlight streamed in through the window covered with Korean paper, casting blurry patches of light on the floor.

He sat quietly on the edge of the bed, his eyes closed. With a slight thought, the abundant meat and grain in his backpack clearly appeared before his eyes. The abundance of food brought a sense of security and hidden comfort, creating a stark contrast with the courtyard outside the window, shrouded in the shadow of hunger.

He poured himself a glass of cold water and sat on the old rattan chair by the window. The suppressed sobs, Jia Zhangshi's intermittent curses, and heavy, restless sighs that faintly drifted from the front yard seeped in through the thin walls and window paper, as if from another distant and troubled dimension.

The moonlight was cold and clear. Outside the window, the lights in the courtyard, as if crushed by heavy despair, went out one by one. Only Wei Chen's small window still emitted a faint but steady light. He took a sip of cool water and gazed at the deep night sky outside the window.

The rope of food coupons had tightened around everyone's necks. In this courtyard, under the shadow of hunger, everything was just beginning.

Night deepened. A subtle, chilling wind, called "scarcity," had already begun to blow, seeping into every crack in the wall and creeping into every sleepless dream.

The gloomy and desolate meeting at the Red Star Courtyard was like a heavy boulder thrown into a pond with undercurrents, the ripples it stirred up carrying sour jealousy and naked greed, quickly spreading to every corner.

And the center of the vortex, unsurprisingly, pointed to the low-key young man in the East Wing—Wei Chen.

As the meeting ended, Yi Zhonghai's deliberately exaggerated statement, "Comrade Wei Chen is a fine young man in our institute! He's a legitimate purchasing agent at Hongxing Steel Rolling Mill! He's also holding a position in the security department! He's the most promising young man in our institute!" and the subsequent embellishment about him "having personally witnessed the tragic state of the disaster victims," ​​were like winged nails, deeply embedded in the hearts of every neighbor with their own thoughts, who were heartbroken over those two pounds of grain.

"Dual job? Purchasing clerk? And he's also a security guard?" Sha Zhu kicked open the door to his small house, causing dust to fall from the door frame. Frustrated, he grabbed a half-empty bottle of cheap liquor from the table and gulped down a large mouthful. The spicy liquid burned his throat, but it couldn't extinguish the rage in his heart.

"How many days has Wei Chen been here? Is he even fully grown yet? Purchasing? Security? He's getting all the good stuff all by himself!" The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. Qin Huairu's pale and miserable face flashed before his eyes, along with the thin figures of Bang Geng and his children.

He Yuzhu, the pillar of the canteen at Hongxing Steel Rolling Mill, an eighth-level master chef! In terms of skill and seniority, in every way is he better than that kid? But where's the limelight? Praise from factory leaders? Temporary transfer to the neighborhood committee? All the good things fall on Wei Chen's head! Even at the whole institute's meeting, that old bastard Yi Zhonghai had to bring up Wei Chen to save face in the end!

A surge of intense jealousy and resentment gnawed at his heart like a venomous snake. "Fine, you think you're so great, Wei Chen? Just you wait and see, this courtyard house isn't for a newcomer like you to show off!"

Inside the Jia family compound in the middle courtyard, the atmosphere was so oppressive it was almost palpable. Under the dim light, Jia Zhangshi sat cross-legged on the kang (a heated brick bed), her harsh old face twisted and distorted by extreme jealousy and resentment.

She clutched a half-empty coarse cloth grain sack tightly in her hand, her knuckles turning white, and her triangular eyes gleamed with greed, as if it were not an empty sack, but the granary of Wei Chen's house that she had imagined was filled with white rice and flour.

"Did you hear that? Dongxu! Qin Huairu! Did you all hear that?" Jia Zhangshi's voice was shrill and grating, like sandpaper rubbing against the ground. "Double salary! Purchasing clerk! Buying whatever he wants! Security guard! So powerful! He's all set for himself! How much wealth must he have accumulated? Huh? And look at our family!"

She slammed her hand on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), spitting all over Jia Dongxu's face as he stood beside it. "Four mouths to feed in this family! How can we survive on just Dongxu alone? The children are at the age where they need to grow! If they starve, the Jia family line will end, and I, this old woman, will haunt you even as a ghost!"